Indulgence
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Stein/Marie. The morning is gray. He dresses, she dreams, and they both convey a different kind of mess. But that's all right.
1. should and should not

_A/N_; Recently, I watched episode 35, and I practically died from the happy. I said to myself, "Self," I said, "you need to think of something Stein/Marie to write before you explode." I thoroughly agreed with myself, but could not, for the life of me, come up with an outlet for this urge. And then I watched 36. And saw that _look _Stein gave our favorite one-eyed blond. (I died from happiness and wrote about it on my LJ. It was a very emotional moment.) And so here you are. Spoilers for episodes 35, 36, and chapter 40. Please enjoy and review.  
_Disclaimer_; If I owned Soul Eater, Marie would have already seduced Stein. Unfortunately, all I own is my perverted mind and the ideas stuffed inside.  
Written while listening to _Dancing in the Velvet Moon_, by Nana Mizuki.  
**42_souls** table 3, theme #18: should and should not.

* * *

He had never expected to become fond.

Franken Stein was a smart man. He was insane, blunt, and unintentionally creepy, but there was no denying that he was smart. Unwilling to place himself in compromising positions like relationships that involved a scalpel-less intimacy, he preferred to observe such relationships and the people who indulged in them from afar. It had never been high on his priority list to do so, but with one such person living in his house, he could do little to help it. The woman in question, Marie Mjolnir, hardly kept to herself; a day didn't go by that Stein didn't hear some offhanded (or passionate, or implied, or forced, or joking) comment about marriage and her ideals therein.

Even when she wasn't talking about it, that light radiated from her-- the light that allowed him, or anyone looking, to read her thoughts. She was _ready_. She was _waiting_. Marie didn't hesitate to let it be known that she wanted to settle down. She wanted someone to tell her he loved her; to hold her close, call her dear, and fill her heart. It had a vacancy sign for all to see. But before she married, before she was able to retire, she was assigned to him, and she set up camp far too close to his own heart (which, unlike hers, was merely a blood-pumping organ).

It was different, for sure. Once he'd gotten past the oddness of the lights in his home being on when he returned, a smile greeting him in the center of the source of light; once he'd grown accustomed to _Marie's_ plant growing in his kitchen, _Marie's_ obscure, cutesy, girly magnets stuck to his refrigerator,_ Marie's_ underthings accidentally ending up in his laundry pile; once he'd adjusted to his new schedule of eating three meals a day, being expected to shower seven times a week, waking up to the sound of the front door slamming shut (and coffee, and a mysterious blanket draped over his shoulders, though he distinctly remembered falling asleep at the computer without one); even after becoming used to a new life entering so quickly, so forcefully into his own, Stein still couldn't shake off the weirdness beneath it all.

He had never needed anyone to enter his world; they were free to hang around him, to speak with him, to put their trust in him, but aside from Spirit-senpai, none had even come close to _being _close. He could soul resonate with any weapon; who it was didn't matter. Stein wasn't particular about people, weapons, meisters, or otherwise. And if they knew what was good for them, the feeling would be mutual.

But no one, not even Spirit, had ingrained themselves so completely into him. No one had scarred him so deeply inside. Not like Marie. He had never felt fond of anything, so it was new. It was odd. It was unexpected. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He hadn't even realized it until that moment during the whole Brew incident. Even though they had failed in their mission, Stein was changed forever. Not only had the insanity shaken him to the core, seeped through his pores, filled his very being, but... but Marie had not been afraid. Or rather, she was not afraid of him. She had been afraid for him. But even that fear had not won out against her fear for the lives of her students. For an assignment, he noticed, she had certainly become attached.

The idea was almost foreign to him. Foreign, but expected. This was Marie, after all.

Upon thinking such a thing while watching her clutch the children in a death-like grip relief, her anxiety all but washing out of her, Stein realized a few things.

One: he knew Marie. It hadn't been an 'I'm so well acquainted with this person that I can tell what type of person she is based on the action she takes' type of knowledge. It had been the 'of course I knew she would do this. She's been wedging herself into my focus for months, and I can't escape her' type.

Two: he was smiling. It wasn't a smirk. It wasn't a grin spawned by the insanity festering inside of him. It was a smile of --and try as he might, he could not find a different, more-suited-to-a-person-like-himself, term-- fondness. He felt the smile, small as it was, in the center of his very soul. For a moment, he felt the insanity pause, and wondered if it was just her calming aura.

This woman, who had been his support even if he could never be hers, who left shopping lists on sticky notes stuck to his forehead in the morning, who spoke of marrying his shower head, was stirring something foreign in Dr. Franken Stein, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready for it.

According to his observations, people who felt things like this tended to feel them fall around their ears in the end. It was not the way Stein wanted to go. Indulging in this (whatever it was) would not work. He knew that, even if he initiated something, and even if she responded, and even if (somehow) they were able to share a brief moment of happiness, Stein could never give Marie what she wanted. It seemed that the fondness was proving true; more than he wanted to know why he felt this way, her tears, fresh in his memory, reminded him that he wanted much more for her to be happy.

Unselfish thoughts were also foreign to him. He was, once more, unable to form logical thoughts on the matter.

Perhaps if he ignored the fondness long enough, it would disappear. Certainly, if he waited, eventually he would be free of Marie, and she would go off without the attachment, find a good husband, and live out the rest of her days without a partner who could not keep himself from going insane at the slightest lowering of his guard.

So he would wait. Feelings faded. He would suppress them so far inside that they could not reach him, and it would be the same.

On the lamb with Marie, he had all the time in the world to perfect the freezing of his heart. It would not be hard. The hard part had been on her; melting it.

The insane professor looked out the window of their hotel room. The moon grinned back at him from above. With a silent breath he turned his head toward the Mjolnir woman who slept on the bed beside him; it was their last night with enough money for an inn, and all they could afford was a single bed.

"Starting now," he murmured, pulling the shared blanket further up her shoulders, "you will be nothing but a comrade to me, and you will walk away unscathed."

He would never be worth her tears, and assuming that she didn't feel this fondness, out of duty, for him, his plan would work.

Because she didn't.

She shouldn't.

She couldn't...

Oh dear.

Stein had found another loose string in this web of feeling. What a troublesome, unfitting puzzle. Things were so much easier when he just didn't care.


	2. with and without

**42_souls**, table 3, theme 42: "would you go with me?"  
I... kinda wanted to do more for Indulgence, so... eh heh.

* * *

He slipped on his shirt, the fabric rubbing roughly against his skin. It was a gray morning, and the light that filtered in was dusty. Tired. He glanced lazily to the side. Marie remained in a sound state of slumber, her blond hair mussed and curled against the pillow. She lay on her side, arm draped over the comforter, perhaps soaking up the last comfort such accomodations could provide before they would have to rough it. With him.

Stein turned back to the chair, lifting his white coat and slipping it on, weighing the dull morning's possibilites.

He could leave without her, for her sake. Of course he could. He'd considered it numerous times so far, but more than any other, this seemed to be the crossroad of their journey. Their designated inn budget had run dry. Stein and Marie had had a full twelve day's worth of inn stays in the budget, along with seven hospital days, three train rides, and enough ration money for a vagabond's feast. There was always a chance that Sid would end up finding them and provide them with some spare change, but they had agreed not to depend on it, and had merely taken the edge off of their food money at a roadside convenience store, and eleven nights at out-of-the-way inns, saving the last night for an emergency (in the case that hospital service was not an option).

He could conveniently forget a third of the train budget on the table, leave her while she slept, and retire to an isolated location, where he could die alone, old, and insatiably insane.

But...

Stein slid the chair out from under the desk, straddling the back in favor of facing the bed.

But that would always be a 'could.' Of course he could leave Marie. That had always been his decision. Marie had never given him a "leashed" feeling, and Stein was almost certain that if he left, she would not stop him. She would likely respect his choice to leave. He could even go so far as to assume that she would not end up following him.

But.

But there was that pathetic, greedy little part of him that always seemed to reach for the light in her. The part that liked to gaze openly at her soul while she slept; that indulged in the perverse enjoyment that came with watching the warm soul quiver with delight at the dreams she immersed herself in. Stein would admit it: his selfish tendancies were showing.

He could leave her. But he wouldn't. He could say he was merely waiting for her to decide to abandon him for his lack of doting, attention, love. But that would be a lie. He knew she would never leave him for such reasoning. She was too sentimental. Too sweet.

Marie rolled onto her back. She made a tiny noise, as if to ward off the inevitable, but it was not meant to be; consciousness won in the end. The Mjolnir weapon lifted a palm to her face and sat up. Her hair hung in a curtain around her head, draping over her shoulders like a blanket. It took her a moment to notice his stare. If Marie found it odd, instead of saying so she graced him with a drowsy smile. "Good morning, Stein."

He tilted his head to the side and smiled back.

"I'm thinking of getting breakfast downstairs. Would you come with me?"

Marie nodded absentmindedly and threw the covers off, intent on following Stein wherever he may go; this time, down a flight of stairs to the cozy dining room below.

"Just let me straighten up. I must look like a mess."

"You do," he agreed with finality, watching her gape, glare, huff, and stalk off to the bathroom where he just might have heard the faint sound of laughter.

She did, but Stein had long since conceived a certain favor for the messy.


	3. want and want not

**42_souls**, table 3, theme #28: "what I wanted was a plastic heart."

* * *

"You're making a spectacle of yourself."

Marie glanced up from the beautiful teacup in her hands to find Stein staring pointedly at her from across the table.

"Eh? What do you mean?"

Stein reached over, placing two fingers on the rim of the cup and slowly pushing it down to the table.

"You look about ready to propose. The passionate aura is scaring our neighbors." He smiled and waved to the sweatdropping older couples and families around them. Marie shook her head lightly.

"Don't be silly. I was just admiring how pretty the design is. I'd like a set of china some day." She smiled wistfully and took a sip. "Besides, if there was a proposal, I would expect the teacup to man up and ask me itself."

After breakfast they cleared their table and headed back up to their room, where they had a mutual, silent agreement to milk all that they could from their stay until it was noon checkout time. Once in their room Stein pointed out the blueberry jam at the corner of Marie's lip, and she dashed off to the bathroom to wash her face. A mere moment ticked by when she poked her head out and alerted Stein that she would be taking a long, hot shower before their departure. "You should take one, too," Marie said cheerfully and slammed the door.

Stein turned to the desk and sat, counting and recounting the rest of their funds until he had memorized the amount down to the last cent. He leaned back, removing his glasses with one hand to massage his eyelids with the other.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a genius. For certain, he'd caught the look on Marie's face after that china comment. His partner was homesick for desiring the life of a housewife. Obviously she had been putting thoughts of "after" in the back of her mind, perhaps to resurface on a later date, or perhaps to never appear in her mind's eye again. Of course, it wouldn't (couldn't, shouldn't) be that easy. One look at a simple teacup and a happy family had given her that look, and she completely changed. She wanted it. It was essential to her. Marie simply couldn't obtain a plastic heart.

The shower was an audible one-- he could hear it from outside the room, even with the air conditioner blasting to raise unneeded gooseflesh. Stein propped his cheek in his hand and gazed unwaveringly at the bathroom door. If he focused, he could feel the warmth of her soul, pulsating her nature in a heartbeat-like fashion through the thick door. Stein closed his eyes.

He sighed.

He was definitely not about to show his resolve to the nearest window and boot it out. Most certainly not. After all, Marie was always warm. Her soul always shone like the sun; like her hair (which had likely darkened a few shades beneath the showerhead, water trailing down her skin, pink from heat). Like her smile (her lips were dry and red, even beneath the torrent of water, because she refused to buy anything but the necessities. "Anything but" included chapstick and vaseline). Like her tone of voice (Marie had always liked showers. On the outskirts of any possible physical relationship, she embraced the caress of hot water on her flushed skin like a man deprived. So under the constant stream, she gave small, appreciative noises to her lover; the shower).

So what did he want? His and Marie's ideas on life, love, and the logic of were completely different, and that had been established long before he'd gone insane. The human contact that she so craved had never been a desire of his. Stein was a practical man, whose needs didn't leave the boundaries of his next experiment. That was not Marie. They were similar in their quests to reach out and touch the hearts of millions... though not in the same sense. So where oh where did that leave them? Two people who were nothing alike, one for the good of man, one for the good of _a _man. What kind of people were they? Neither could fulfill the other's desire. She was an untouchable for him, but she craved that contact. Contact that he could not provide in the way she so desired.

... Couldn't he?

No, that was absurd. She wanted love, but all he could provide was a scalpel and a few dry words. Sure, he had the practical parts; hands, eyes, lips, and other obvious components globally associated with "love." But he couldn't put on an act for her. As Nygus had put, quite plainly, he had no love in him. He couldn't do such a thing to Marie. And any carnal relationship otherwise couldn't hold her for long. More than likely, she would tire of trysts, and such an invaluable part of her being-- the heart, the soul, the fire that made her **_Marie_**-- would turn cold. People like Marie Mjolnir, they who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved in return, couldn't exist on coitus alone.

One moment. Halt thought process. He was considering such a relationship with _Marie_? He was considering fulfilling testosterone-stimulated urges with _Marie_? The same Marie that was currently standing perfectly nude and vulnerable in an unlocked bathroom not ten feet away? Certainly not _that _Marie.

Stein was having trouble focusing on the back of his eyelids.

The pros and cons of the situation weighed heavily on his mind. The more he thought about it, the more the pros were beginning to seem terribly good to him. Thinking so, he realized with a mad little grin that if he tried hard enough, he could make the cons disappear altogether. In fact... why bother considering "what ifs?" This was the final crossroad. She could make her decision here. He couldn't make it for her, after all. She was a big girl now, capable of making her own choices. Thinking about it, she already had.

'I'm taking a shower. You should, too.'

The curious professor pushed himself to a stand.

_Why think? I'm already insane _

* * *

**A huge thank you to all of my reviewers. You're brilliant; every last one of you. The next chapter, as implied, is going to be a little... kinkeh. I may even have to bump the rating up. I hope that in doing so, it won't fritter you good people away. Thank you again!  
-Bya**


	4. understand and misunderstand

**42_souls**, table 3, theme #36) "only fools rush in."  
I FEEL SO INSECURE AND GRODIE AFTER WRITING THIS BECAUSE STEIN FEELS OOC AND MARIE IS SUCH A WAIF AND IT'S VERY EW. But please read anyway, and tell me how I can improve. Please. Please.

* * *

She giggled and rubbed the inn-provided shampoo through her hair.

Marie was a shower fan. In fact, she'd even suggested marrying Stein's shower head when they lived back in his house. After thorough consideration, it was a more logical choice for a husband than a toilet. Unfortunately, according to Stein, his shower head was indeed female, and did she really want to go through those legal issues?

Stein would need to shower as well, since they didn't know when they would next be able to afford to stay at a place wherein becoming thoroughly clean was an option, and health was improved through cleanliness. Marie was wary about caring for a sick, insane man in the wilderness.

She would probably use up all of the hot water, though. The opportunity was just too good to pass up. Marie just _loved _showering.

Apparently, Stein had other plans.

She was immediately snapped out of her steam-induced haze at the loud, bodily thump on the bathroom door. Jolted, the weapon slipped past the shower curtain and wrapped a white towel around herself. She opened the door. "Stein?"

He was lying in front of the door, writhing on the floor in a fit of mad giggles that tore at her heart. Marie dropped to her knees at his side, rolling him over to face her. "Stein..." There was nothing to say in moments like these, but speaking helped her keep herself in check. "Stein, be still." She touched his shoulders with a gentle firmness. He giggled her name. "I'm here, Stein. Calm down." Marie was surprised at how even her voice sounded; for certain, inside she was shaken. It never ceased to amaze her that cool, composed Franken Stein could be so prone to madness. It hurt her. But she would persevere.

"Marie..."

His hand attached itself to her shoulder, fingers stiff and tight. Marie's eyes widened. "Stein?" She took hold of his forearm with both hands. "What's wrong?" It was a stupid question. Obviously, she was the problem. Without needing much force, but using it anyway, Stein fluidly shoved Marie to the floor. She stared up, vaguely noting that the steam from the still-running shower was wafting slowly through the doorway on her right. Stein looked back down lazily, his eyes tired. The madness drained him, she knew. He was so exhausted... Marie's heart lurched.

With her free arm, she reached up and touched Stein's cheek with her fingertips.

"Stein. Get off of me."

His gaze didn't waver. Stein didn't move.

"Do you want to leave, Marie?" he asked suddenly, startling her. "Don't you want a life with someone who will love you?"

"Get off of me," she repeated, the gentleness that had once been in her tone quickly vanishing. Likewise, his eyes were revealing a maniacal tinge around the edges.

"Wouldn't you rather go back and take time to mourn the mole? Wouldn't you rather get on with your life?"

"Franken Stein, _get off of me_."

He leaned down, so close that Marie could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating. Fierce eyes bore into her own, and she could feel his ragged breath on her lips.

"Wouldn't you rather let me go?"

And her heart began to beat once more, an aching, painful rhythm. He wasn't just saying this to hurt her; he was speaking the words in his heart. Her hand had never left his cheek. "Stein..." She was sure that he could hear the tears in her voice. She did not know what to say. "Stein." Leaning up, consciously, unconsciously, no doubt mindlessly, she kissed him. Just for a second. Just for a heartbeat. And she said it again. "Stein." One tear fell and she kissed him again, the second no longer than the first. "I'll never leave you," she said, punctuating the remark with another brush of lips. "I won't let you go." Another. "Stein."

He didn't move, but she didn't mind.

Perhaps now he understood. Questions like that hurt her, left her hollow. But healing him made her feel whole.

* * *

It must have been fifteen minutes later. Stein lay exhausted on top of Marie, the left side of his face burrowed in Marie's towel-clad stomach. She touched his hair, content watching him doze. And faintly, barely, she spoke his name.

"Stein. I've got to turn the shower off."

Slowly, he inclined his head and gazed up at her reproachfully. She could not help but smile. "Come on, get up. I'll get dressed, and when the hot water comes back, you can bathe, and we'll be on our way. It's a new beginning."

Stein pushed himself up with his arms, eye-to-eye with his partner, and in a deadpan tone uttered the words that she never expected to hear from Stein's mouth.

"Get out of your towel."

Marie was puzzled at first. She wasn't an idiot, but there was no way he could mean what she had initially thought he meant. It was nothing to blush about, for sure. Stein had to have some sort of back-alley motives and would hold any gutter thoughts against her later.

"What?"

"Take it off. I'm going to take you."

Well _that_ was misleading. Marie supressed a sigh.

"Take me where, Stein?"

"On the floor, unless the shower is still hot. But that's doubtful, so the floor is my first choice." He didn't move, and Marie waited for him to grin slyly and ask her what she could be thinking because surely, her face must be a brilliant red. But he didn't. She squirmed awkwardly.

"Um, Stein... what do you mean..?"

And quickly, almost too easily, he kissed her. And she was on her back once more.


End file.
